Rehearsal
by codenamepapabear
Summary: Schultz interrupts Hogan and Newkirk. Just a quick little vignette of an idea that I liked. Yes it's slash.


(Set after the episode _Is There A Traitor in the House._ Not that it matters, but.)

Following a faint knock at the door of Hogan's office, a blue-clad figure slipped through and interrupted the officer's close inspection of one of the American magazines. "Colonel?"

"Yes? What can I do for you, Newkirk?" Hogan stood up off his bunk, hastily refolding the center of the magazine and setting it aside. This didn't go unnoticed. The corporal hid a smirk and did his best to look penitent. "You were right, sir. About Berlin Betty."

"Is that so?" Hogan feigned mild surprise. "How's that?"

"She was lyin' about 'er family, sir." Newkirk fidgeted with his hat. "It was a trap. And, according to 'er, the kissing was from ol' Hitler himself."

"Yes, I heard that part." Hogan cast a casual glance at the coffeepot radio. "Better him than Göring. I hear the caviar aftertaste is a killer."

"I s'pose, but the mustache is a ruddy pain too." Newkirk managed a cheeky grin, which he aimed in Hogan's direction. In response, the colonel slipped an arm around his shoulders, fixing him with a mild but stern look. "And you're planning to apologize for jeopardizing the mission, right?"

"Well, not exactly, sir." Newkirk closed the distance between them. "More of a 'thank you' for not holdin' it against me." A flash of worry crossed his face. "You're not plannin' to, right?"

"Of course not, Newkirk." Hogan looked supremely smug. "What would I do with a good man like you? Besides, it's against orders to let Klink's safe get any peace and quiet."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Newkirk grinned again, then slipped an arm around Hogan's waist. "Blokes with mustaches aren't my type, but then again, you're clean-shaven." He cleared his throat. "Sir."

"Yes, I am." Needing no further encouragement, Hogan took hold of Newkirk's jacket lapel, pulling him just near enough to kiss him. Newkirk shut his eyes and tangled his fingers in Hogan's dark hair, his insides churning with nervous energy as he clung to his commanding officer. Hogan was more calm and composed, tasting the kiss and holding his corporal close. Neither was in any hurry to pull away.

"Colonel Hogan?" Schultz announced his presence by pushing the door open, an empty tray clutched in one meaty hand. "I could not find the cockroach, so I am returning the strudel tray to you-" His eyes widened and he dropped the tray, which clattered on the floor. "W-w-was ist _das?_ Colonel Hogan! Y-you have a Fräulein in the barracks-"

"Nah, Schultzie, it's just me." Newkirk pulled away from the kiss and smiled impudently at the portly guard. Schultz, relaxed, chuckling in understanding, and bent down to pick up the tray. "Ah, that's different-" He froze again, then straightened up as realization sank in. _"Newkirk!_ And _Colonel Hogan-!_"

Hogan tapped him on the shoulder. "Calm down, Schultz, We're rehearsing for a play. Hilda was cast already and we needed another female part. I'm the male lead." He quickly concocted a bogus explanation for Schultz's benefit, delivering it with a confident poker face. After a few seconds of thought, it sank in and the sergeant nodded. "I understand. Especially in a prisoner of war camp, it is easy to be short handed." He handed the tray to Hogan, who accepted it and set it on the table. "Tell LeBeau his strudel was _wunderbar._" A look of rapture passed across Schultz's face. "And save tickets to the play for me, ja?"

"Right, we'll be sure to do that." Hogan hustled him out of the office as soon as he could, placating him with a few chocolate bars (with coconut!), the standard bribe. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he returned to Newkirk, who was sitting on the table now, cleaning off a few crumbs off the strudel plate. Noticing that Hogan rolled his eyes at this, Newkirk aimed his best innocent expression at him. "What? I never get any of the bleedin' strudel."

"Forget the strudel and come here. Roll call is in half an hour and I _don't_ want to be late." Hogan practically pulled him off the table and into another kiss, which prompted a squawk of surprise from Newkirk. "What are you doin', sir?"

"That should be obvious." Hogan smirked. "I'm rehearsing."

Newkirk wasn't about to complain.


End file.
